Last Thursday we said our final goodbyes to our sweet pup, Seven. This was the first time Ryan and I had to deal with putting a pet down, something all our parents must have done numerous times as we were growing up. It was so much harder than I imagined it could be.
Going in to owning a pet, you don't consider what it will be like to lose them. We focus on the fun times ahead, even though our mind knows that most likely they will die before we do as many domesticated animals don't live as long as humans do. This is my scientific, matter-of-fact side showing. I know the details, it's how it is. Period, the end. Then there is the heart. Sometimes pets weave themselves so intricately into the fabric of our lives that the hole(s) they leave become much larger than we'd expected. Such is the case with Seven.
He's been through so much with us. Our first house, updating homes and yards, attempting to train a dog for the first time, having kids, and even losing kids I don't feel like we were always the best dog owners, with how much a dog really needs from their human. But oh man did we love, and we sure did need him through the worst of times.
I am most definitely grieving the loss of a truly loved family member now. Seven was my pup from the beginning, even if he and Ryan developed their own unique relationship, Seven was my pup. And damn it hurt to see his chest stop rising and his eyes lose their last bit of life. He was beautiful, sweet, demanding of our love, awkward and quirky, dependent and protective. I will miss him so damn much.
Even though I am in the midst of grieving so hard for Seven now, it's difficult to not compare it to losing Korbin. I wrote of this before, and I'll say it again. It is so different. And it's as though now I compare all my grief experiences to losing Korbin as if to say that's the true measurement of grief. Losing Korbin put me in to the epitome of grief. A grief I feel to this day. Losing Seven has definitely left a hole in my heart, and an emptiness in our home. And yet, it is still different.
Some have said that losing a pet is worse than losing a person. I can't agree with that. But that's not to say that losing a pet is easier, or that it doesn't hurt to lose a pet. Especially when that pet is such a part of your family.
I think in this case, my grief barometer threw me off from what to expect through this new grief experience. In preparing myself for losing Seven, I knew mentally it wouldn't be the same, and so I told myself in my head that it wouldn't hurt my heart so badly. But that was wrong. Just because the grief is different and not perceived in my mind as not as great as the grief of losing Korbin, that doesn't mean it is going to hurt less. My heart definitely knew better.
The path of grief itself, however, will be different. There's an emptiness in our home now without Seven in it to care for and listen to him yell at us. But I let myself really feel everything this weekend, and I honestly feel better already. I'm still sad he's gone, but I needed to let those emotions happen, no matter how similar or different they may be. They need to happen just as in any other type of grief journey.
Before, I hadn't thought twice about grieving other losses after Korbin, as nothing else since losing Korbin really felt like such a hard loss. Grandparents have passed, but they've lived their long and beautiful lives and even seen great grand-children. I've lost aunts and uncles suddenly, and yet the grief was felt more by other aunts and uncles who were so much closer to them than I was.
This was my first loss since Korbin that really, literally, hit close to home. Maybe it hurts so much because we love so much.
I'm definitely not going to stop loving, even though it means potentially more losing and hurting.
Because I've got a lotta love to give.
